Married By Mistake

me.”
    “But you don’t know that,” he said. “In fact, this whole thing with the housekeeper is your fault. If we’d been sleeping together—as I suggested,” he pointed out virtuously, “she wouldn’t have had any ammunition for her article.”
    “I’m not going to sleep with you just in case every housekeeper we hire turns out to be a spy.”
    “So much for your dedication to our cause,” he said. “Let’s get back to my strategy, since I at least am willing to prevent our good work so far from being ruined. I think Eloise is okay about these stories. I told her we were in separate bedrooms while the journalist was here because you moved out of our room in a fit of paranoid jealousy over one of my past relationships.”
    Casey squealed in outrage. “You and your ego. Why couldn’t you be the one who was jealous about me?”
    “Eloise knows I’m not the jealous type,” he said smugly. “Let’s not split hairs. We need to ramp up our marriage for everyone else to see.”
    “Ramp it up,” she echoed.
    “There’s a charity gala on Thursday night,” he said. “I’m one of the patrons, so I’ll be conspicuous. If you go with me, we’ll both be conspicuous.” She looked puzzled. “We’ll be conspicuously happy.”
    “Okay...” she said doubtfully.
    “And we’ll invite your family to stay next weekend.”
    Casey groaned, knowing he was right. “I guess we should. Dad sounded suspicious about that article when he called yesterday, and I think he and Karen are making progress on getting their lives together. I wouldn’t want to derail that.”
    She was struck with a brain wave. “How about we invite your family—all the stockholders in Carmichael Broadcasting—for lunch next Sunday?”
    Adam looked less than enthusiastic about having to see his relatives on a weekend, but Casey persisted. “It can’t hurt to mend some fences, Adam. Whatever the outcome of this court battle, you’ll still have to work with Henry and Anna May. And if I introduce your family to mine, my folks will be even more convinced.”
    “That’s not a bad idea,” he conceded. “Maybe a barbecue. We can keep it casual.”
    “Sounds good.”
    “There’s one more thing,” Adam said. “We’ll be sharing a room when your family is here. Don’t you think it’s time you and I made love?”
    It was the first time he’d referred to it as “love,” instead of sex or sleeping together. Casey sagged into her seat, put a hand to her stomach as if she could push down the heat that had pooled there. “Absolutely not,” she managed to reply.
    “It’s going to happen, Casey,” he said. “Start counting down.”
    * * *
    A DAM HAD FLAT - OUT IGNORED Casey when she insisted she would buy her own clothes for the charity gala, and had sent Eloise to shepherd her around the best Memphis boutiques in search of the perfect dress. And what a dress it was.
    The halter neckline of the lime-green satin gown flattered her bosom, the ankle-length slim skirt hugged her hips, and high-heeled black sandals gave her a seductive sway when she walked.
    Not that Casey would be seducing anyone tonight, she told her reflection. But she wanted to look as if she was at least capable of seducing her husband. Adam’s wasn’t the only ego to have taken a hit with Saturday’s newspaper article.
    “You look great,” Adam said when she met him downstairs. “How about you wear that on Saturday night?”
    “Why on Saturday?”
    “When we make love,” he said, “I want to take that dress off you.”
    Her face flamed. “I told you, we are not going to make love.”
    He tsked. “Are you sure you’re a pushover?” he said. “Because I’m not seeing it.”
    Casey beamed. He couldn’t have paid her a nicer compliment.
    Determined to defeat the gossipmongers, she held her head high and her husband’s arm tight as she and Adam entered the restaurant for the gala.
    There were probably a hundred and fifty people there, and Adam had to talk with many of them. Casey looked around for Eloise and found her in the middle of a group of elegantly dressed women.
    “Casey, my dear.” Eloise kissed her cheek, then introduced her to the others. It seemed Casey had interrupted a discussion about a controversial painting by Memphis artist Kevin Mallory, which had won a national award.
    “It’s gobbledygook,” one woman said. “A mishmash of colors, lines that go nowhere...what’s it supposed to be?”
    “It is mystifying,” Eloise